The Grave of Our Shattered Dreams
by mmcnmb1
Summary: Au where Shiro is separated from the rest of Voltron for a about 5 years, and when he eventually finds them, he isn't so sure he should have came back at all.


**This is the first fic that I can say "I'm sorry for writing this." with absolute conviction. This is 150% pure self-indulgence that my twisted mind came up with when considering where Shiro could be. Honestly, if you weren't aware of the angst just from the title, this is a warning now, this is basically 3,000+ words of it. I hope you enjoy it, or cry, whichever comes first. I had to get it out of the way so my mind would focus on my other projects so I didn't put as much detail into it as I could have, but I hope you enjoy it.**

* * *

Shiro had never wanted to leave, not truly. Sure, he had his moments where the pressures of leader ship were about to drag him under. Moments where the idea of abandoning it all had flickered through his head. But those never stayed long, not with the quick reminder of just why he was doing this, and just who he was fighting for.

He had a team, filled with bright, talented, hope filled teenagers who truly believed they would succeed, even against the odds. Pidge, the headstrong girl who had fought her way into space to find her brother and father; who had become an expert in alien technology that far exceeded anything Earth offered. Hunk, the boy who had been dragged into this, but stayed regardless, his heart to large to simply back down to the suffering of others at the hands of the Galra. The person who always seemed to notice when any of them were feeling down, and ready with a new concoction of food and the offer of companionship that was somehow given at exactly the right time. Lance, the boy who had dived headfirst into a situation he barely knew the complexities of, but had stayed, even against the loneliness and insecurities he faced. The boy who hid behind a mask of jokes and confidence, who always had a witty remark or quick joke to lighten the mood. And Keith, the boy who had similarly dived headfirst into this, regardless of consequences or repercussions of it all. The boy who ran on only his instincts half the time but had a mind that was just as sharp as any blade once he was calm enough to listen to it; the boy who was to rough and brittle to openly show that he cared, and settled for a exterior of sarcasm and silence to hide his "weaknesses" that only fueled him even more. The Princess and Coran, who had awoken to find their civilization extinct and their worst enemy on the verge of universal domination, but who pushed past it all to carry on their King, their family's, final wish. They guided all the paladins, even Shiro, taking charge of the situation they were never meant to be in charge of, and doing it masterfully.

Who would ever want to leave that? Of course, not like he'd had a choice when the time had come. One second Voltron's sword was coming down, and in the next, the Black Lion was sending him apologies as he opened his eyes in a place he had never seen before.

His first thought? He hoped that Keith would lead them well. Don't get him wrong, he trusted Keith completely, he would even admit he was grooming Keith to take over Voltron should something fail. Keith was just a teenager though, no matter how amazing he was. A part of him wishes the Princess could simply take over the position, but the nagging fear that the Black Lion wouldn't accept her had kept him from ever bringing the idea up. But the Black Lion had accepted Keith, even if it was only for a few moments, making him the best choice for a leader if Shiro couldn't do it. He wasn't expecting to disappear then, maybe he was expecting death, but not this.

He woke up in a strange land, surrounded by trees and shrubbery. He couldn't process it at first, simply staring around in shock. He was on his feet soon enough though, his mind racing to figure out what exactly had happened. Why he had ended up deserted on the other side of the cosmos. He was lost, left searching for an answer he couldn't find.

Shiro was a fighter though, so fight he did. His arm certainly helped with aspect, especially considering his bayard was left behind when he disappeared. Luckily, the planet was inhabited, so Shiro was able to establish a basis of communications and bartering. Plenty of beings saw him as easy pickings, leading to more than his fair share of back alleyway fights. He always came out on top; he couldn't afford to lose here, where he would never be found.

He fought for his food too, a switch between hunting animals he had seen the locals hunt, and trading work for food at various establishments. He lived on a day to day basis, scouring out a back alleyway to call his home. He made himself as comfortable as he could, given he was on an alien planet.

Still, he couldn't deny the sinking feeling in his chest that grew with every new dawn that he awoke to. His chest felt hollow, missing what had once made him whole.

* * *

He couldn't measure the time anymore, at least not in any accurate way. So instead, he focused his mind around being productive for as long as possible. He slept for only as long as it was necessary. He wouldn't find his way back to Voltron by sitting around and waiting for them. He asked any alien who understood him about Voltron, where it had been, what the latest news was. None recognized his armor for what it was, and that was fine by him. He didn't need the extra attention now, not when he was scrounging around for his next meal. He was sure he smelled rancid, if his own nose was any judge, but that was only a minor detail, lost in the scramble that was now his life. Well, his life had been a scramble before this, except the scrambling was mostly the fault of the team either acting out of line or something in the castle malfunctioning.

He found that as time went on, he thought back to the castle more and more, to the people he had been forced to leave behind. He couldn't feel the Black Lion anymore, and the fact came back to haunt him in the quieter moments. His own doubts took the heaviest toll on him then as well, taking advantage of the time where he couldn't distract himself from them.

They whispered things though, some of which hit him harder than others. They said that the reason he couldn't reach the Black Lion was because it had thrown him out, because he wasn't worthy enough to be the black paladin. That the other paladins probably didn't even bother to mourn, since he never mattered that much anyways. That he would end up dying on a planet whose name he couldn't pronounce without ever seeing his home again. At times, it was never ending, a crescendo of of emotional drainage that almost always left him in tears.

If there was one positive to all of this, it would be that he didn't get nearly as many flashbacks as he had before. Apparently being a Galra prisoner didn't have many associations with life on the street.

* * *

Shiro used to pride himself on being a good person. He would help others even at his own expense.

Of course, that was before now.

Now, he was desperate enough to steal any food he could get his hands on, regardless of who was selling it. From the richest merchant to the poorest farmer, he stole from them all to survive. And the thought of that sickened him.

He had to survive though, he had to keep fighting.

Even if the gap in his chest just kept on growing.

* * *

He's staring up at the sky, wondering where he went wrong. His side burned, and he recognizes the sticky feeling of blood as it soaks into his clothes and runs past his fingers.

It's stupid, but the first thing that comes to mind is that he had just found new clothes that fit him, only for them to be ruined like this. Sure, they weren't anything grand, considering he found them in a trash pile. They had been nice enough though, a definite improvement from his far to old clothes from before.

The second thing he thinks is far more depressing. He was going to bleed out here, on the other side of the universe, and know one would ever even know or care.

He barely hears the short sharp laugh he gives, running a hand through the thick strands of his hair. Its grown since his paladin days. He probably has a mullet to rival Keith's by now. Lance wouldn't have let him hear the end of it, neither would Pidge. Hunk wouldn't mind though at least not openly. Not like Allura and Coran had any sense of human style anyways.

He thought about trying to cauterize the wound with his arm again but dismissed the idea. If it hadn't worked the first three times, it didn't have a much better chance of working now.

Vaguely, he could feel his mind trying to slip away even as he fought to stay awake, he wondered if his armor had been taken. He had hidden it well, if he said so himself, in the alleyway that was now called his home. He couldn't bear to part with it, even if it didn't serve him much to keep it.

"Hello?" Shiro heard the voice call out, a hauntingly familiar ring to it, but that could easily be blamed on his addled mind. "Anyone here? I saw a fight earlier and was wondering."

Shiro tried to say something, but it came out as a groan of pain more than anything. In an instant though, the person was by his side.

Person. His mind registered. There was a _human_ person leaning down over him. He had to be dreaming, or dead. Probably dead by this point.

"Shiro? Shiro!" Shiro is definitely dead, because if that voice is who he thinks it is, there's no way he can be this lucky while he's still breathing.

He never gets the chance to confirm though, all he hears is frantic shouting before it all washes away into a comforting void.

* * *

He's still staring, despite it being considered rude, but he needed time to take this in.

Matt Holt was standing in front of him. Matt looked considerably worn, and had a few new scars that Shiro didn't recognize, and was dressed in armor even though he was a pacifist at heart, and carried the weight of someone who had seen too much in one lifetime. None of that mattered though, because this was Matt Holt, and he was alive.

"Matt." He croaked, uncaring of the tears that welled up in his eyes.

"Shiro." Matt replied, equally as teary eyed. "You look like shit."

"I know." Shiro gave a weak chuckle, giving into the urge to wrap Matt in a hug.

"God, you're even stronger than I remember." Is what Matt says as soon as Shiro releases him. "Must be the arm."

"Partially." Shiro spares a glance at the arm in question, its purple glow still obvious even in the dim lighting of- wherever they were.

"I can give you a tour." Matt offered Shiro a hand. "Because apparently I'm a rebel now."

"I would love to hear more." Shiro took the outstretched hand, grunting as he stood.

"Of what? The design of the base or my mad fighting skills?"

"All of it."

* * *

The question comes from nothing really, just a glance at the stubble that now grows from Matt's chin. They'd been lucky enough to share a room in the rebel base, which had become Shiro's new home in a sense. Voltron was still lost in muddled rumors, and light-years of space, although Shiro hadn't stopped looking.

"How old are you now?"

Matt looks over from the tech he had been fiddling with, considering. "I should be close to 29 by now, if my calculations are correct. Why'd you ask?"

Shiro didn't answer. He couldn't breath, he couldn't move, he couldn't register anything besides for the number 29.

Matt had been 23 when they had been captured, and Shiro 24. He hadn't been a part of Voltron for more than a year after his escape.

Just how long has he been gone?

He hadn't thought about it, how the days on that planet had started to blur together. It didn't feel like years. It didn't feel like any long period of time. He thought at most it had been a single year, let alone five.

Why didn't he think of this before? How could he have been so stupid?

What had he done?

"Shiro? You okay?" A steadying hand on his shoulder pulled him out of his thoughts, and he realized that his breathing had become frantic.

"I have to get to them." Shiro sighed, giving Matt a pleading smile. "Come with me, please. I have to get back to Voltron."

His eyes burn with happiness when Matt immediately agrees.

* * *

It took them months, months of travelling from planet to planet, gathering intel from questionable sources. It was worth it though, every second of it was worth seeing his team again.

He found them, by complete chance. In a sea of Galra ships and explosions that he and Matt had accidentally gotten trapped in, he saw a hint of red wings and a blazing sword that had him bouncing on the balls of his feet and near tears all at once.

Their small ship had caught up to the castle after the fight, sending out a communication signal, Shiro couldn't help but tap his fingers as his nerves grew.

As Allura's face flickered to life, and the silence became tangible as her gaze fell on him.

"Allura." Shiro bid with a watery smile.

"Shiro." She whispered, then turned to shout. "It's Shiro! He came back!"

"Shiro?" An achingly familiar chorus of voices answered to Allura's call. They were older, much more worn than he remembered, but they were all there, even Coran.

"Hey guys." Shiro greeted the cluster of faces that now crowded the screen. "I brought a gift for Pidge too."

"Matt!" Pidge shoved her way past the rest of the team, pushing her longer hair out of the way as she got a good look at Shiro's companion.

"Is that...?" Matt asked, disbelief highlighting his features.

"Didn't I..." Shiro started pausing as he realized he never had gotten around to telling Matt exactly who the green paladin was. "Oh."

"Really Shiro?" But the annoyance on the Holt siblings faces was drowned out by the sheer joy at the prospect of seeing each other again.

* * *

Shiro couldn't process how much his team had changed as they crowded him. Their twenty-something faces a gentle, but obvious contrast was still jarring.

Pidge's head reached his shoulders now, an obvious growth spurt, and her hair had grown with it. Her cheekbones wee well defined, and she stood taller than ever, a quiet confidence exuding from her stance. Hunk remained as cheery as ever, but Shiro could see places here fat had been replaced by thick muscle. He showed an assuredness that he had been lacking in the years prior. Lance still had the snarky grin on his face, but Shiro saw the concern flashing across his face, much more obvious than it had been before. His voice didn't ring quite as loud as it had, a sign of his smaller ego. Keith was worn, his eyes showing a wear and strain far that was expected of a leader. But he was utterly relaxed, even accepting of the small touches and nudges given to him by the other paladins. Allura and Coran hadn't changed much, if only a bit more worn and up a few scars, although Shiro did note that Allura's hair was shorter than it had been.

Plenty of tears were shed by both sides, even Keith, although he vehemently denied the fact.

And for once, the hole that had been building in his chest was filled, and he felt whole again.

* * *

Of course, it didn't stay that way. He noticed the little things first, how there was a hesitance when any of his teammates talked to him, a sort of distance formed by years of separation. The way they paused when Shiro blurted out an order, old instinct overcoming logic, and looked to Keith, waiting for his approval more than anyone else's.

The Black Lion still won't talk to him. He goes down to her hangar for a few hours every day, just to see if anything changed. He ranted about everything that came to mind, from the discrepancies between his teammates past and present selves, to the nights he had spent thinking about them in that back alleyway.

He doesn't get an answer, but he's okay with that. For now.

He doesn't even offer to try and pilot again, no one can pilot a lion if they don't have a bond with it, and Keith's bond with Black is far better than Shiro's. So instead, he offers advice and support. Matt makes himself at home in Pidge's workshop quite easily, slipping into his new system of life with an eagerness Shiro envied. His thoughts weren't fair to Matt though, and they certainly weren't fair to everyone else.

It all comes crashing down the day Black rekindled their bond. He was overjoyed, and anxious to talk with her again. But she wouldn't allow it. She kept silent, obstinate against Shiro's pleas to just talk. She did remain though, a quiet presence in the back of Shiro's mind.

Of course, Keith is the one who convinced him to try and form Voltron again, to fly like they had long ago.

Shiro eventually agreed, albeit tentatively. Holding onto the hope that he still had a place among his old team.

Black opened her cockpit for him, and Shiro wished he could say that he wasn't surprised. He can fly her easily enough, and he feels something close to nostalgia as the voices of his teammates resound in his ear.

"We've go this Shiro." Hunk reassured him.

"Yeah, no sweat, just like the old days." Lance snarked.

"Patience yields focus." Keith reminded him.

"Just go and form Voltron already." Pidge sighs, but Shiro can hear the encouraging undertone.

So he pushed Black forward, higher and higher into the sky, waiting for the rest of the lions to follow him into their signature routine.

Except they don't.

They don't follow him in the entire 4 hours they spend flying.

As he called off any further attempts, he hoped that his voice didn't sound as defeated as he felt. The hole in his chest was back, a gaping maw that threatened to devour him whole. Everything felt distant, as if it was far of. He barely registers the apologies and condolences that they offer him.

All he registers is the lack of surprise and the hint of thankfulness in each and every voice.

* * *

He went down to talk to the Black Lion that night. He still doesn't get any response, and he's not sure if he was okay with that or not.

"I'm leaving." He announced to the midnight air that flowed into Black's hangar. "If anything, just tell me one thing. It was me, wasn't it? I'm the one who ruined all this."

 _"No, my cub."_

And Shiro was suddenly standing in a very familiar place, although it had been years since he sat foot here. The sky didn't have stars though, not like it had the first time. But the ground was the same, a faint purple that reflected Shiro's form, the empty sky behind him, and the fur of a black lion.

He could only raise his eyebrows at the sight of the Black Lion. She only came up to his head now, and she is strikingly similar to the lionesses Shiro remembered from Earth. Save for her black coat, white underbelly, the rings of yellow and red that outlined her eyes and cheeks, and the large, brilliantly crimson wings that sprout from her back.

 _"Sit."_ She offered, her wing gesturing to a spot beside her.

Shiro does, resting his elbows on his knees as he stares out into the void. "Its nice to talk to you again."

 _"It is."_ She agreed, laying down regally as she looked at the space above them. _"Before anything, I must apologize, for you have done no wrong, committed no crime, and yet you are suffering."_

"Its okay." The words were instinctive, even if they are a blatant lie. "I'm used to it by now."

 _"You have been given an unfair hand in life. And the blame for that rests with me alone."_ Her wings drooped as her head moved to gaze at her paws, claws extending and retracting.

"Wh-"

 _"Don't try to put the fault on your shoulders. I have wronged many beings in my existence, but I feel that I have wronged you more than any of them."_

"What do you mean?"

 _"You know exactly what I am referring to. I moved you to that planet. Although it was to save your life from the aftershock of defeating Zarkon, I was to hasty, and I put you where our bond could not last, and where you would have no way to contact anyone. And now you are left with nothing but scraps of a world where would have thrived- where you had been thriving."_

"So what now? I know there's not a place for me on Voltron. They've all moved on from me. They won't accept me as a leader again." Shiro sighed. "What do I do with myself from here?"

 _"I cannot answer that for you. But I can offer advice."_ She rumbled quietly. _"I may have stolen your place here, but that does not mean you do not have a place anywhere in this world. The universe is vast, full of possibilities that even I cannot comprehend. The Galra will not be beaten by one force, no matter how powerful Voltron is. There are others fighting out there, beings that Voltron flies over as they fight the bigger fight."_

She wrapped a wing around him, flooding his vision with nothing but crimson feathers. _"Bury the past here. Bury my mistakes and move past them. Find your own place in this huge, magnificent, and beautiful world."_

She unfurled her wing, showing the now star flooded horizon that dawned for the two of them. _"Find a place you cherish with all your heart and fight for it. It is out there somewhere, if only you can see it."_

"I- thank you for what you have done for me. And I forgive you." Shiro said. "I know you didn't want this any more than I did."

 _"Thank you cub."_ Her ethereal form began to fade, her words with it. _"We cannot correct mistakes of the past, but we can work to change the future."_

* * *

Shiro left the next day, before the others were awake. He pasted a note to each inhabitant's door though, detailing his specific reasons for leaving. Although in the end, it comes down to a simple, but tragic fact.

He wasn't needed anymore. His once team had moved past him, into a place where he couldn't catch up.

He trusted Black's advice though, and was determined enough to carry out the mission she gave him.

He would help any who he came across, from the grandest prince to the poorest child. He would try to help pick up the pieces of what the Galra empire destroyed.

It wasn't a bad life he decided. It would be rough at times, and there was a large chance he would never see them again. But he couldn't stay, not when every glance towards any of the paladins now only expanded the emptiness in his chest.

So, he would go into the universe. To make whatever little mark he could with his short life.


End file.
